


Deja Vu

by gray_autumn_sky



Series: Friends With Benefits [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 13:52:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7643134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gray_autumn_sky/pseuds/gray_autumn_sky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Robin and Regina meet for the first time in Storybrooke, Regina’s jolted by a sense of deja vu.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deja Vu

“You don’t have to follow me,” Regina says, her voice piquing with annoyance as her jaw tightens. “You’re only going to slow me down.”

Robin lets out a long sigh and though she’s not looking at him, she can practically feel his eyes rolling back into his head. “With all due respect, m’lady,” he begins, the tone of his voice mirroring hers. “I’m not going to just leave you here.”

“I can handle myself,” she says, turning back to him and crossing her arms over her chest, as though to send the message yet again that she doesn’t need an assistant tagging along and getting in the way. She’s perfectly capable of going on alone, just as she always has.  

“And suppose you run into the Wicked Witch? What will you do then?”

“A lot more than that feeble little bow and arrow you’re carrying around will do.”

“It’s _hardly_ feeble…”

She smirks—she’s obviously struck a chord and he seems somehow injured that she’s insulted his bow. “I _prefer_ to work on my own.”

“And _I_ prefer not to have blood on my hands,” he retorts as he twirls the arrow he’d recently shot at her between his fingers. She watches him carefully, watching as his fingers bend and twist and she feels a grin pulling at the corners of her mouth—surprised to be enjoying the banter. Her eyes linger over him for a moment, watching as he continues twirl the arrow—surprised to find that she’s not entirely put off by the sight of him.  “Besides,” he begins, his eyebrow arching as she quickly looks away, “Aren’t two sets of eyes better than one?”

“That’s debatable.”

He smiles victoriously, “And _that’s_ not a no.”

She rolls her eyes as her smirk turns to a smile as she steps around him, taking a few steps toward the farm house. She hears his feet pivot on the gravel, but he doesn’t follow as she expected him to do—and she’s somewhat taken aback when she finds herself disappointed. Looking back over her shoulder, she arches an eyebrow in his direction. “Aren’t you coming?” He shakes his head and sighs, but nonetheless, pushes himself forward, joining her as they walk up the long drive way toward the farm house.  

He’s not at all what she expected and though she won’t admit it to him, she’s amused by the thought that having a thief around might actually prove to be handy. As they walk, she’s struck by how resourceful he is—he’s already checked the surrounding grounds and the barn, and he’s mapped out the best and most discrete ways of breaking in and breaking out. Together, they round to the back of the house to the cellar and her eyebrow arches when she sees the seemingly new padlock, keeping the doors shut. Before she can ask, he’s fishing around in his pocket and then fiddling with the lock, and a moment later it pops open—something he’s obviously done before.  

She watches as he opens one of the doors and steps down to the first step, then offers her his hand. Her eyebrow arches and her lips purse, as her eyes look from him to the darkened space where he stands, then back to him—and then reluctantly, she places her hand in his.

As soon as their fingers touch, she feels it—a jolt, followed by a tingling sensation and a flash of… _something_. She swallows hard and pulls away, looking up at him with questioning eyes, finding his brow furrowed and his eyes wide—he felt it, too. Taking a breath, she places her fingers back in his hand and this time, nothing happens.

She follows him blindly into the darkness, unable to shake the feeling that they’ve been here before—maybe not _here_ , per se, but somewhere like here in a time and place she can’t quite pin-point, a time and place that she’s now incapable of recalling, no matter how she tries. Robin reaches for the light, pulling on the switch to illuminate the way—and once more, when he looks back at her, she _feels_ it. He looks at her curiously, tipping his head to the side as he takes a   breath—she wants to ask him if he can feel it too, wanting confirmation that it’s _something_ —but she’s not entirely sure what to  say because she’s not entirely sure what _it_ is or even how to describe it. So, she presses forward wordlessly, following him down the dimly lit corridor trying her best to ignore the fact that even though he’s yards ahead of her, far out of arm’s length, she can feel his fingers lacing down around hers.  

Her concern is soon forgotten and she’s quickly distracted by thoughts of the Wicked Witch. They search by level, tackling the main floor and uncovering no clues that give the witch’s identity—and even fewer clues to indicate whether or not the person who inhabits this house is even the person they’re looking for.  

Together, they ascend the stairs in hope of discovering something of a more personal nature on the upper level. But the first two rooms are empty and the bathroom only yields the expected toiletries. Regina makes a quip about a bottle foundation not being green and Robin chuckles in return and they move on to the master bedroom. It surprises her that there’s a sort of ease between them and she finds that there’s a familiarity there that makes her wonder if perhaps the legendarily noble Robin Hood had befriended the great and terrible Evil Queen in that year they’ve all forgotten. A sadness that settles inside of her at thought of that—that that this man who is virtually a stranger to her may have once been her friend, something she can’t say she’s ever really had. She tries not to dwell on it as they near the room and she almost doesn’t notice that Robin’s stopped moving.

She watches curiously as he leans in, almost pressing his ear to the door as he draws his finger to his lips, signaling her to be quiet. Her brow creases and she can hear a faint, but very much sound coming from the room. She leans closer, listening to the repetitive tip-tap sound and just before she takes a step in, Robin holds out his arm and the tips of his fingers only barely touch the knot of her trench coat—just enough contact for to make a shiver run down her spine as she feels _it_ again.

She can feel her hands trembling as her breath catches at the back of her throat, and she presses her eyes closed–unsure if she’s trying to hang onto the feeling or push it away—and when her eyes are closed, she can see him just ahead of her, just as he is now…but somehow different…

_The torch he carries flickers as he holds his hand out to stop her, his finger tips pressing into the lacy bodice of her dress. “I…don’t know that we’re alone,” he whispers, looking back at her from over his shoulder, his brow furrowing with concern. “Did you…hear that?”_

_She shakes her head and cocks an eyebrow at him. “Who else would be walking through cobweb-filled tunnels?” she asks impatiently as he hands her the torch. “Much less…doing what we’re here to do.”_

_“Yes, and the point of us being here is to not get caught…doing what we’re here to do.”_

_She shrugs her eyebrows and chews at her bottom lip. “This sounds like a challenge.”_

_He rolls his eyes and takes a few steps forward, peering around the corner. “What would be challenging is continuing on with this little tryst if one of us were transformed into a flying monkey.”_

_This time, it’s she who rolls her eyes as she fidgets in her spot. “I suppose that would…further complicate things.”_

_Looking back at her, his blue eyes shimmer as he smiles forcing the slightest of smiles to tug into her lips…_

“It’s okay,” he tells her as her eyes flutter open. “The coast is clear.” She blinks a couple of times, his words pulling her back into the present as what feels like a memory fades away. “It’s just the blinds,” he tells her, motioning to an open window where plastic paneled blinds are flapping against one another as a light breeze sweeps through the room. She swallows hard—she hadn’t even noticed that he’d opened the bedroom door.      

Shaking off the feeling, she follows him in and together, they begin to open drawers and push aside the clothes that hang in the closet. She offers him an amused smile as he busies himself in looking through a jewelry box—looking for some magical relic he wouldn’t know, even if he saw it. She takes a step toward him, ready to offer her assistance when she hears a floorboard creak.  

Robin looks back at her, holding up his hand to stop her—and once more, a floorboard creaks.

“Is someone here?” She whispers, listening as it happens again—it’s not unfathomable in a house this old that it would make the occasional noise; but Robin looks concerned and no sooner than their eyes meet, he’s quickly closing the jewelry box and reaching for her hand—her heartbeat quickens at the contact and as he tugs her into the closet, she feels _it_ again.  

Despite the darkness of the closet, when she looks down, she can see his hand still holding onto hers. They’re standing together in the tight, confined space of the closet, trapped up against each other, practically chest-to-chest and so close that she can feel his heart beating wildly, the pace nearly matching hers. A chill runs down her spine as something that feels like a memory begins to flicker—and when Robin flinches and loosens the grip on her hand, she knows that he can feel it too.

“Robin,” she murmurs, distracted by a flicker of that same something.

“Shhh…” he whispers, his other hand finding her hip as if to urge her to be quiet. But it only succeeds in sending another twinge rippling through her. She swallows hard—it’s stronger this time, more long-lasting—and in the darkness, she can feel him looking up at her as what she thinks might be a memory floods her…        

_“Ooh,” Regina murmurs breathily. “Oh, that feels so good. Don’t stop. Please…don’t stop…”_

_“Shhh,” he says, breaking contact with her skin as he peers up at her, laughing a little as her face scrunches at the loss of his mouth. “You need to be quiet. Someone might hear us.”_

_“I know…” she says, her head falling back as he returns his focus to her clit. “But it’s just…so hard to care when you’re…ooh…”_

_It’s an adequate distraction on an otherwise rough day, he thinks, as his eyes shift upward and his fingers slip into her. He feels a grin tugging at his lips—he loves watching her, loves pushing her closer and closer to the edge, then pulling her back just enough to keep it going, and he loves the game they play. When it started, he’d barely imagined that it could become a regular thing—in his mind, it was just one night between friends. The next morning, they hadn’t talked about it—and when a week passed, he was sure that it wouldn’t happen again. But then, it did—it happened again and again with an increased frequency and an increased comfort. Summer had turned to fall, and still their trysts continued—the novelty and thrill of it never wearing off._

_Since Marian’s passing, he hadn’t had sex with any regularity. Aside from the occasional drunkenly awkward one-night stand, there was nothing lasting and he’d gotten used to that, accepting it for what it was—and until Regina, he’d been mostly content with that._

_In so many ways, this arrangement was perfect—just sex, no strings attached—sex and nothing more, or so they both said. It wasn’t true that the physical side of their relationship was the only side. He cares for her—deeply—and he’d venture that she cares about him, too—though perhaps not in the same way. She was first an unlikely ally and then a friend. She’s a confidant who listened to him in his moments of grief, who counseled him through difficult parenting choices and who warmed his bed at night. He craved her—the taste of her lips, the touch of her fingers sliding over his chest, the feel of her thighs hugging his sides and the warmth of her breath on his neck—and even when they weren’t together, she filled his thoughts, traveling with him throughout the day.  He finds himself thinking about her smile—something she didn’t give to just anyone—and her bluntness; he thinks of her dark eyes and her poise, her natural wit and her laugh…_

_Slowly, he stands, dragging his lips up her body as his fingers continue twisting and curling inside of her the way he knows she enjoys. She shivers beneath his lips and he grins—loving the effect he’s having on her. He pulls out his fingers, chuckling as she lets out a little whimper, and he slide his hands to the back of her thighs, lifting her and pushing her back against the wall of the tight, confined space._

_It’s an odd place and it’s the middle of the afternoon, and typically, they wouldn’t be doing something like this here. But he could tell that she was having a difficult day—missing a son who couldn’t miss her back—and there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do to distract her, to take her mind off whatever memories were haunting her on this particular day and to let her feel something other than the sadness she carried with her all too often. He’d taken her by surprise, pulling her into the one of the castle’s tunnels, turning her into the darkness as his lips found hers. She’d pulled back momentarily, her bottom lip catching between her teeth—something that he found both endearing and sexy—and then her lips crashed back down onto his._

_His erection slips into her and he lets out a groan, her warmth and slickness enveloping him. He stays still for a moment, enjoying the way she feels around him, completely ready to lose himself in her._

_“Please…” she breathes out, her voice raising just above a whisper as his fingers press harder at the back of her thighs and her legs instinctively wrap around his hips as she begins to wriggle against him, her clit rubbing against the base of his cock as he holds her against the wall. “Mmm…”_

_“What was that?” Snow’s voice says as the footsteps outside come to a halt._

_Robin looks at her, watching as her eyes grow wide. They’re deep enough in the tunnel that their voices would be little more than muffled sounds._

_“I heard…something.”_

_“I heard it, too,” Charming says—another set of footsteps nearing._

_Robin grins and begins to rock his hips. Regina’s breath catches and her hands slide into his hair, tugging and squeezing as he thrusts harder and deeper, almost daring her to be quiet._

_She gasps and bites down on her lip, pulling him tighter and pressing her chest to his. “Mmmm….”_

_“It’s coming from the tunnel,” he hears Little John say._

_“Shhhh,” he whispers, flicking his tongue against her earlobe as her head dips forward. “Shhh…”_

_“Kiss me,” she tells him, her lips dragging across his jaw, knowing she’s losing the battle. “I….ohhh…” His lips cover hers and his tongue slips into her mouth, swirling around her as she lets out another, now muffled, moan._

_“I…don’t hear it anymore,” Charming says._

_“Maybe it was just the wind,” Snow suggests._

_“Or a ghost,” Little John retorts, his voice fainter than it was before._

“Regina…”    

“I…” She stops, finding that her voice is hoarse, her mouth is dry and her cheeks are burning red with embarrassment—she doesn’t know what to say and even if she did, she doubts she could push out the words and she’s glad that he can only barely see her.

“I think they left…if anyone was there at all.”

She blinks—that wasn’t what she expected him to say, and for a moment she wonders if it’s possible that he didn’t feel what she felt, didn’t remember what she did.

“I…don’t hear anything anymore.”

She swallows hard and tries to push away the memory, unsure if that’s even what it really is, as Robin reaches for the doorknob. She blinks and tries to focus as he rattles it—but the door doesn’t budge. Once more, she feels her heart beat quickening as Robin continues to rattle the knob, shifting himself—rubbing up against her—as he pushes at the door.

“Are we stuck like this!?” She asks, her voice cracking with panic as she feel heat rising up the back of her neck. Her cheeks flush deeper as she thinks of the he feels—the way he felt—and she feels a sensation that has nothing to do with this odd sense of déjà vu. “We _cannot_ be stuck like this…”

“No,” he’s quick to say—perhaps a little too quickly, his voice just as flustered as she feels. “It’s just…jammed.” She takes a breath, slowly exhaling it as she sighs as he continues to push his shoulder against the door as he twists the knob, his hip pressing into her. “Almost there…”

_“I’m so close,” she tells him as she grinds down onto him, rolling her hips as he thrusts into her, harder and deeper, his own climax nearing. “Almost…”_

_“Oh, god. Regina…” he breathes out. “I…” His voice catches as he explodes deep inside of her, tensing and jerking as his orgasm ripples through him, sending her over the edge as her hips begin to buck against him._

_He holds her for a second as they try to catch their breath. His lips find her shoulder, kissing gently as he tries to drag this moment on just a little longer. She doesn’t pull away just yet, letting him hold her and letting him kiss her as she takes long, deep breaths, trying to bring herself down from her high._

_And though he’s loath to admit it, this is the part he wishes he could change—the part he finds himself thinking about when he alone in his bed, the part he finds himself reliving long after they’ve gone their separate ways, the part he fantasizes about going another way. He wants to tell her—he wants to tell her that something’s changed and that perhaps having strings attached wouldn’t be such a bad thing. He wants to tell her that when he’s with her, he feels alive again and that the pieces of his soul he thought had died with Marian are flickering with life and hope, and he wants to tell her that somewhere along the way he’s fall madly, deeply in love with her—but he knows that isn’t what she wants to hear. And so, even though he doesn’t want to let her go, he does…and he tells himself this is what he wants, too._

The door pops open and he steps out first, his shoulders rising and falling as he inhales a deep breath and slowly releases it, running his fingers roughly through his hair—a sure sign that the memory wasn’t hers alone—and he seems grateful to put a bit of distance between them. She watches him closely as he regains composure, and she feels a surge of emotion that she can’t quite describe. She doesn’t know what she feels, but it’s… _something_.

“We should…go downstairs,” he tells her as he turns to face her, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. She nods, quickly letting her eyes drift over him, lingering just a moment longer than she should. “I think we could give the kitchen another look…” She nods again in agreement as his voice trails off, feeling an odd stirring at her core—and once more, despite the fact that he’s more than an arm’s length ahead of her, she feels his hand holding hers as he leads her out of the room.

A smile twists onto her lips as she watches him walk ahead of her wondering what else she’s forgotten…


End file.
